Rock Show
by Tashana Ambrosia
Summary: Time marches on as the song says. Future fic, starring an established Puckleberry family, with some special extras. Ever wonder if any of their kids would take the stage by storm, like their parents? Just a little bit of fun. Hope you enjoy!


**Authoress' Notes: **So this has been rolling around in may head for a while. The first time I heard **Halestorm's** "Rock Show" I got this image of this Pucklebaby. So I hope you all enjoy this.

Thank you as always to **Ms. Redd** my wonderful Beta! You rock.

**Disclaimer: Glee and its characters belong to Fox, Ryan Murphy, etc. . . I make no profit here. The songs mentioned/used here are Halestorm's "Rock Show" and The Runaways "Cherry Bomb;" they belong to them and their respective record labels. This story is for entertainment purposes only.**

* * *

"**Your children are not your children.  
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself."  
**

**- Kahil Gibran**

* * *

**Rock Show**

"Well, you better call me when that baby's born. How you feelin'?" Noah Puckerman closed the front door behind him and set his laptop bag down on the kitchen table as he passed it. He switched his cell phone into his other hand and smiled involuntarily, "All women say that when they're pregnant. And I'm gonna tell you the same thing I told your Aunt Rach, you need to measure your belly then look at the square footage of a house. You are miles off the mark."

He chuckled as he entered the living room and looked at the wall of photos, his eyes settling on the photo of his wife, who had been pregnant on the red carpet. "I saw the last photo you posted on facebook, you look beautiful. Wouldn't say it if it wasn't true, Sweetie. Okay tell your Ma I say hi."

He winced and made a pained sound, "Oh, that's just awful to say to a man. I'm sure your Aunt Q didn't like it either. Okay Monkey Face, I can hear your assistant screeching at you, I don't wanna get you in trouble. I love you too Bethie. I'll see you when Rach and I hit Chicago in two weeks."

His fingers were resting on a framed photo of his wedding: His biological daughter a seven year-old Beth in his arms and Rachel's biological mother Shelby hugging his new wife tightly. It had taken time (and therapy that he wouldn't admit too, but fuck it, had to happen) but the bridges had been repaired and he knew his daughter and his wife knew her mother. He knew that Rachel had probably started talking to Shelby for his sake, but the two had so much it common it was only a matter of time before they started getting along. Granted, they were more like sisters, but that was cool. Beth had been reintroduced to him and Quinn as a niece and they were both good with that.

His eyes moved to the photo of him, Quinn and Beth at Beth's wedding – the special picture she had requested, once she was sure that Shelby was alright with it. God it was so weird that their kids were getting to the age to have kids. Like the song says, time marches on.

They kept in contact with some of their original Glee club members, but had lost touch with some. They didn't all achieve the lofty dreams that they had in high school, but they were all living good lives. He had succeeded, and it wasn't any secret that Rachel had been a big part of it.

Now, if you asked him when he was twenty where he was going at age twenty-five he would have said: single, rock star on the road, with some hot brunette sleeping in his bed every night and he couldn't have been more wrong. In reality, at twenty-five he was: a married song writer who worked from home, with a dark-haired baby sleeping on his chest (and the _same_ hot brunette sleeping in his bed every night) and he couldn't argue with how great that felt.

His finger lingered over the photograph of himself asleep on the couch with his oldest daughter, in her star patterned pj's, asleep on his chest.

He just always loved the fact that he got to be there for his kids. No late nights or crazy hours that kept him away from sporting events or school pageants; he was a dad, a real one. Being a song-writer let him set his own hours, and the fact that he had a few Grammy winning tracks didn't hurt.

He had oddly (well, if you asked his friends) wound up being a stay at home dad for the first few years of the twins' lives and he never minded it. Rachel had planned on being done with Broadway at 25, when she had her Tony, Grammy, and yada, yada, her life plan. . . But six months after the twins were born, Barbra Streisand called his wife and asked her if she would consider playing the title role in Babs' autobiographical show. She was a part of that performance for three years and then got to star in the movie. He visited her on the set the last day of filming, and let's just say that Hannah was technically in the last scene of the movie. Still made him laugh.

He loved his family, immediate and extended. There was something to be said when you could have three baby mommas, and one wife (yeah, that's right, three). And not an issue between any of them, well not one that he caused anyway. It sounded complicated but the situation was fairly straight forward. When their friends had wanted kids and had trouble adopting, he and Rachel had agreed to help.

His eyes shifted to the last family portrait of Santana and Brit's family. Santana's little monster, not using the term loosely here, Nevaeh Marie, was genetically his kid and the eighteen year-old was all fire. He didn't know what Santana was thinking mixing their DNA. Brit had two babies herself, she wanted a boy and a girl and she got them. Michele Kaylee was their sixteen year old and was a genius; apparently if you mixed Mike Chang with a dippy blonde you got an IQ of like 190 or something. Artemis Bryan, their ten-year old baby boy, was Artie's, again biologically speaking, and kinda a shy kid. Poor little guy got mowed down by his sisters.

He looked at the 'Klaine' photo next: the proud fathers with McKenzy Paris, the petite eleven-year, who was genetically Rachel's. That whole process was fun, explaining to their youngest how the baby in mom's belly was her cousin, not her sibling.

It made parent teacher conferences fun in elementary school (the whole draw your family tree thing was always interesting; Rachel had Linnie's laminated, not even bothering to edit out the question marks from the teacher). Plus it was a riot at the reunions to play the 'who's my parent' vs 'who's my genetic donor.'

But he was most proud of his and Rachel's kids. All three kids were all straight forwardly individual; each one of them marched to their own drum. He was glad for that, because he never wanted any of his kids to feel like a face in the crowd. Even before they were born, he and Rachel had agreed to let their kids be who they wanted to, within reason. 'Cause he honestly expected his kids to be crazy, especially with all of his mother's threats of 'I hope you have one just like you.' But other than Josie's fascination with explosions, they were relatively calm.

Because individuality was so important to them, naming their children had been a struggle. Did he say struggle? Because there really aren't any words to describe the pain in the ass event that had been before the twins were born. The nursery, clothes, birthing center, and pretty much everything else up to where the two would attend preschool, was picked out and planned except for their names.

He would like to point out that the twins might have had names, but every time he and his 'not-overly emotional' wife talked about names, they fought. Not like the little fights that occasionally happened, but an honest to holy god screaming match (hey she's the one that got loud first), where he ended up on the couch for the night. When Rachel was seven-months along, (big as a house in her words, but he never said that, not once, besides she had that pretty pregnant glowy thing going on) he mentioned the name 'Amy' and Rachel threw a frying pan at his head, yelling about how he dated a girl named Amy in high school and why was he trying to name their baby after one of his exes? He decided that was the last time he willingly brought up the subject of naming their kids.

Unfortunately, the twins had been born a month early and they had been the 'babies Puckerman-Berry' for three days. Then he had to bite the bullet and have _that_ conversation again. It started while Rachel was still drugged and their friends were still in the room. Safety in numbers, or safer with witnesses, or whatever you wanna call it.

Finally arguments, websites, and friends exhausted, they settled on a little sentimentality and little Jewish tradition. The little girl was Caroline Kochava: Caroline for obvious reasons and Kochava because it meant 'Star' in Hebrew; their little boy Josiah Noah: Josiah was simply traditional and Noah, well that was Rachel's idea to keep the Puckerman tradition of passing the father's name to his son as his middle name.

Their younger daughter had been the easiest to name, though it came with so much sadness. Rachel's fathers had been killed in a car crash a month before she was born. Her name was an homage to the two men who raised his wife: Hannah Levona. Their youngest was born late and unlike the twins, who were independent and fussy, Hannah clung to her mother with a happy content smile.

Little Hannah, well not really so little now at sixteen, had always been a little ADD in what she wanted from life. She had drifted from piano lessons, to dance classes, to singing lessons, and even a little acting training, but she never really settled on one thing. All of the kids could sing, though, music was kinda imbedded in them from the beginning. But he often wondered if it made Rachel sad that none of their kids really had her absolute love of music. Of course, she decided before any of them were born that she would never be one of those crazy, pushy stage moms and she would let her little ones chase their own dreams.

There had been this moment after one of the twin's plays that he found Rachel crying on their balcony. He gathered her up in his arms and asked her what was wrong. Rachel told him that she heard one of the other mothers berating her daughter for being half a step off the beat.

"_She was just screaming at her and Noah, her daughter kept apologizing, but this. . . this woman, just said she wasn't good enough. She told her own daughter she wasn't good enough. How could you do that to your own child? Noah, I don't know if I want to raise our children around this pressure."_

It didn't surprise him at all to hear Rachel on the phone with colleges the next morning plotting out tentative teaching plans for the future.

After Broadway, Hollywood (which was the longest commute ever, with Rachel shooting out there all week and flying home to New York every weekend) and putting out a record, his diva had a new plan. They moved out of New York and into a little town in Michigan. The kids were not too excited at first, but Allendale was good for them, quieter. Rachel got to teach at the local college and the students at Grand Valley, were hungry to learn from a real star.

The sound of a drums and a hard guitar intro drew his attention away from memories and back to the present. He climbed the stairs to see who was home and listening to. . ._The Runaways?_

"**Can't stay at home, can't stay at school. Old folks say, ya poor little fool."**

Hannah was singing, no belting out, the Joan Jett song. A quick memory of Rachel singing, _Living on Prayer_, from their high school days flashed through his brain.

"**Hello world I'm your wild girl."**

Yep it was Rachel all over again. He watched his daughter dance in the mirror and rock out to the beat of the classic tune. He doubted Rachel would approve of "Cherry Bomb," but she was singing. He thought that in and of itself would make Rachel smile.

He rapped his knuckles on Hannah's bedroom door, letting her know that he was there.

His baby girl looked up with her big brown doe eyes and said, "Abba, this is like the greatest music ever." She cocked her head to the side and flashed a smirk, his trademark smirk, at him. "Do you think I could be a rock star? I do have kick-ass genes." Then just as she was confident, she was a sixteen year old girl. She bit her bottom lip, a mirror image of Rachel when she was thinking, and added. "Don't tell Momma, just in case I'm not good enough."

He made a face and ruffled her long wavy hair, "You will always be good enough. Don't you doubt that."

Hannah smiled, "Okay, but don't tell Momma anyways. If I think I sound good enough I'll sing at the music festival this summer and surprise her."

"You think you'll get in just like that?"

"I'm a Puckerman and Rachel Berry is my Momma." She winked and ran a brush through her hair. "I'm a natural."

He shook his head and managed to contain his chuckle.

"Do you know any good _girl_ rock bands? I need inspiration. Oh do you think my singing coach would take me back? Oh and Abba, I think I need an edgier look. Can I cut and dye my hair? Oh and maybe pierce my nose? Oh and a tattoo!" She ticked the questions off on her fingers as her voice grew more excited.

"Call your Aunt Sarah. Yes, if I pay her again. No and no. Absolutely not. And over _your_ dead body. "

"Thanks Abba." She blew him a kiss and closed the door.

.:.

The summer music festival was in full swing as Rachel Berry-Puckerman entwined her fingers with her husband's. She looked around for her older children and waived at Linnie and her girlfriend Sasha, who were at the beer tent with Josie.

"She's so pretty. Do you think I'm dressed nice enough to meet her? I don't want to embarrass our little girl. I mean this is Linnie's first serious relationship and. . ."

Puck stopped mid-stride and kissed Rachel to quiet her, "Babe, they are both wearing cut-offs and band t-shirts, I'm pretty sure you're good."

She tried to give him a stern look, but it failed miserably.

They walked up to the kids as Josie finished telling a story to a blonde girl, who was smiling up at him. "And that's that awkward moment when the hot girl tells you that she wants your sister's number."

Linnie slung her arm over Sasha's shoulder, "Still jealous, Josie?"

"I'm over it." He kissed the blonde girl's cheek as she giggled. "Right babe?"

"Abba!" Linnie launched herself at Puck and hugged him tightly before embracing Rachel too. "Hi Momma." She blushed as her own enthusiasm and reached for Sasha's hand. "Guys, this is Sasha. Sasha these are my folks."

Puck shook the girl's hand, but Rachel hugged the dark-skinned girl, "It is so nice to meet you."

Sasha extricated herself and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "It's nice to meet you too. I've heard so much about you both."

Puck thumped his son on the shoulder and flashed a smile to the blonde girl. "And this is?"

"Dad, don't." Josie rolled his eyes and informed the girl. "He still thinks he's twenty." Josie watched as his father started to open his mouth, "I'm kidding, babe. My father is a perfect gentlemen and because of that, he _isn't_ gonna tell the embarrassing story that he's thinking about right now."

Puck's eyebrows shot up, "I'm not?"

"Harper, these are obviously my _wonderfully mature_ parents." Josie continued with the introductions, hoping to derail the conversation. "Mom, Dad, this is Harper. Mom, behave."

"When did I become mature?" Puck questioned.

Rachel rolled her eyes and kissed her son's cheek, before hugging the other girl. "It's nice to meet you too Harper. I'm sorry my son isn't exercising his best manners, he had quite the example growing up I'm afraid."

"Josie's always like this, I've got him figured out." Harper grinned. "But given his excitement to see you, I wouldn't hold it against him too much."

"I like her already." Puck laughed.

"Where's Hannah-Banana?" Josie questioned.

"Don't you call her that, it upsets her so much." Rachel chastised. "She's helping a friend get ready backstage. She said she'll catch-up with us after that performance."

"Mrs. . ." Sasha started before she was cut off.

"Rachel's fine darlin'." Puck interjected, "Unless she's in class the Mrs. thing makes her feel old."

Sasha nodded. "Rachel, I've always been a big fan of your work. I couldn't believe these two are your kids. I can't ever get Caroline to sing, even at home." She bumped her hip against Linnie's, "And you _can_ sing."

Rachel laughed. "She always got the worst stage fright when she was little. Even in her elementary. . ."

"Momma!" Linnie groaned.

Josie chuckled under his breath and gave his twin a shove, "Don't get mad at mom, just 'cause you're a chicken-shit, _Caroline_."

Rachel's sharp, "Language." And his twin's, "Linnie;" came out nearly at the same time and in the exact same tone. The whole group broke out in laughter as Josie held up his hands in a motion to signal surrender.

Puck squeezed Rachel's shoulder, "We need to get a little closer to the stage. Hannah wanted you up front. She's really proud of the work she put into this."

She pushed herself up and kissed his cheek. "Alright." As they made their way towards the front of the crowd, Rachel linked her arm through Sasha's and asked her quietly, "How long have you called my daughter Caroline?"

"I always have, why?" The younger girl questioned.

"No reason. She just never lets anyone call her that but her Bubbe." She looked up at her husband, "Reminds me of someone."

The someone in question rolled his eyes, but captured her hand again.

.:.

The last act hadn't been bad, but it hadn't been that great. Puck checked his phone and informed his family the next number was the one that Hannah really wanted them to see.

"Who is it?" Rachel asked.

He shrugged, "It's a cover of a Halestorm song and that's all I know."

Josie snapped his fingers, "Didn't you do one of their songs when you were in High School, mom?"

"Naw," Linnie shook her head, "that was Aunt Sarah at their pre-wedding party."

"You are both right. Sarah and I both sang _Here's To Us_ at one time." Rachel corrected. "And I'm never telling you who sang it better."

"White-washed lyrics." Puck coughed.

"Xaiver's saying the f word for two weeks straight and Quinn calling you every night about it." Rachel countered.

Puck lifted her arm over her head, "Winner!"

The crew finished switching out the equipment and the band took the stage. The lead singer was obviously female, but she was wearing a short-sleeved hoodie to hide her face. The band started the opening cords.

"**Little girl. You like it loud. Come alive in the middle of a crowd**." Hannah flipped back her hood at the first lyric and belted out the song. "**You wanna scream. You wanna shout. Get excited when the lights go down**." Her eyes were wild and her newly shortened brown hair was streaked with gold.

Rachel gasped watching her daughter sing. Hannah motioned for the crowd to clap and get into the song with her.

"**At the rock show. You'll be right in the front row. Heart and soul, they both know. It's where you gotta be**" Hannah threw off the hoodie completely and threw it into the crowd. Her iridescent gold shirt had cut-outs of stars and her torn up blue jeans seemed to complete this rock star look she was going for.

"**Little girl, there you are. All the lighters looking just like stars. Sing along, feel the sound. Take a ride on the hands of the crowd. Here it comes, the moment when. You know you'll never be the same again. Power chord, see the light. You found your place in the world tonight.**" She was captivating, Rachel's stage presence, but Puck's moves. Her fists in the air one minute and her hand outstretched to the crowd the next.

"**At the rock show. You'll be right in the front row. Heart and soul, they both know. It's where we gotta be. Yeah at the rock show. Getting high on the solo. So what if it's crazy? That's gonna be me**"

Sasha turned her head to Linnie. "I didn't know your sister could sing."

Josie leaned down and answered before his sister could, "Darlin' neither did we."

The guitar took the solo as Hannah rocked her head to the beat and Rachel could see her daughter, prepping for the bridge. '_Two deep breaths, count your beats out and sing into it, feel everything._'

"**This goes out to anyone one. Who's heart beats like a kick drum. When a bitchin' riff comes. Knows the words to every line, everytime. And you know you gotta go get some, get pumped. Find yourself and lose it. At the rock show. I'm lookin at the front row. Heart and soul, we both know. It's where we gotta be**." It was perfect. Hannah hit the bridge with all the power she needed and amped up the last round of the chorus.

"**Yeah at the rock show. We're reaching for the high notes**." Rachel's eyes filled with tears as Hannah hit the high note and carried the song like. . . She didn't even have words for what she was seeing.

Hannah pointed out into the crowd, right at her mother, as she finished the song. "**Don't matter if we're crazy. You're coming with me. You're coming with me. You're coming with me. So what if it's crazy? It's where we gotta be. At the rock show**."

"Surprise?" Puck whispered in Rachel's ear.

She hugged him tightly and tried to keep from crying any more than she already was.

.:.

Hannah opened the door to her parents' bedroom and climbed up onto the bed next to her mother. She had already changed into her pajamas and washed off the sparkly make-up. She snuggled against Rachel and looked over her shoulder at Rachel's iPad Infinity. "Family pictures?"

Rachel flicked the image on the screen to one of her and Noah at their wedding. "Yeah." Her voice was soft and almost sad.

"Are you okay, Momma?" Hannah asked concerned. "Everybody's downstairs playing cards. Why are you up here by yourself?"

"Oh Love bug, I'm okay; just a little sad." Rachel kissed Hannah's temple. "Today just made me miss my daddies."

Hannah cocked her head to the side, "How so?"

"Watching you up there today, I know how my daddies felt watching me. That's what every parent dreams of, seeing their child happy and shining for the whole world to see." Rachel flicked the picture on the Infinity to one of her fathers. "When did you start singing?"

"A couple of months ago. I don't know, I heard _Crimson and Clover_ and click." Hannah snapped her fingers.

"I'm glad. You were incredible." Rachel gushed, squeezing Hannah's hand tightly.

Hannah smirked up at Rachel, "I was little flat on one of the B's."

"You were, but you recovered well."

"Thanks."

Rachel ran her finger through her daughter's hair, "You are still in trouble for this. You should have asked first."

"I did, Abba said no."

"Then you are in more trouble." Rachel shook her head.

"Oh I know." Hannah smirked.

"I guess you do have some of your Abba in you after all." Rachel sighed.

Hannah shook her head. "Nuh-uh." She changed the photo on the screen to one from the day she was born. "I'm always gonna be a momma's girl. . . and maybe her rock star?"

"I can't wait to be at your first show." Rachel hugged her daughter and looked up as the door opened.

Puck leaned in the doorway, "Hey Babe, we're getting ready to start the movie. You and Hannah coming downstairs?"

"We'll be down in a few minutes." Rachel smiled.

"Hannah you better enjoy this, it's your last night of freedom before you're imprisoned until the end of time." Puck warned as he walked away.

Hannah groaned and flopped into the mattress face down, "Crap." Her muffled voice complained.

Rachel rubbed her daughter's back and teased, "My poor misunderstood artist."

The teenager rolled over until she flipped off the bed. "I'm gonna grab my _Wicked_ hoodie, Abba cranked up the AC downstairs. You want tea or can I make us Soy-milkshakes?"

"I suppose we can share a shake." Rachel laughed as her daughter bounced out of the room, screaming about how she had dibs on the blender. She tapped the 'facebook' icon on her tablet, and shook her head at the fifty plus alerts she had to the video she posted of Hannah's performance. She had to remember to thank Harper for being so fast on her feet to record the performance on her cell phone.

**Sarah Becker wrote: **_Hannah's totally your voice-doppelganger, Rach. But I definitely see the Puckerman- Badassness. When's her encore?_

**Santana Lopez-Pierce wrote: **_Holy Sh$t, little Pucklebaby's a rock star. Nice hair __**HannahBerryPuckerman**__, can't believe your old man let you do that._

**Tina Chang wrote: **_Awe Rachel, she's amazing. Can't wait to see you next month._

**Kurt Hummel-Anderson wrote**_: Why was I not told about this performance in advance? Blaine says she's channeling Joan Jett – I'm not sure I agree. Call me tomorrow, we need to discuss Hannah's fashion sense, she's obviously been watching Puck too closely._

**Brittnay Lopez-Pierce wrote: **_She's like a Puck version of you Rachel. It's like she's half you and half him._

**Michael Chang: **_**BrittanyLopezPierce**_**, **_goofy girl_**. **_Rachel, Hannah's amazing. Let me know if you need help with her moves._

**Nevaeh Lopez-Pierce wrote: **_Holy F!#$, nice girl. My bio-sis is a bad bitch! Rock it out._

**Beth Cochran (Puckerman/Fabray)Miller wrote: **_Oh my word, Hannah's incredible. I'm sure you guys aren't gonna need help with this, but call me if you want an agent for her. I've got a great one just coming off maternity leave. ;-)_

**Finn Hudson wrote: **_I think_** NoahPuckerman**_, your badass title just got passed down. Great job Hannah and just wow, Rach. Really takes you back, huh? Alyssa and Abby say hi, and can't wait 'til you guys come visit again. _

**Shelby Cochran-Everheart wrote: **_Rachel your little girl is amazing. Seems like only yesterday when we took her to see Wicked in New York._

Rachel scanned through the other comments mostly from Hannah's friends, some from her cousins and a few choice responses from her husband about some of the comments sent his way. She was about to close it down when another alert caught her attention.

**William Schuester wrote: **_I knew the moment I met you that you would be amazing, Rachel. Your little Hannah will go far. Make sure she signs everything with a star, because metaphors are important._

She smiled softly as a pair of arms wrapped around her middle and she set her devise down. "Miss me?" She questioned the man chuckling in her ear.

Puck kissed her cheek, "Maybe a little. Come on, babe, your family's waiting on you."

She turned into him and gave him a long kiss, "I love you."

"Love you too, B." He rubbed his nose against hers.


End file.
